


Reach the Sky

by daredevilmoon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/pseuds/daredevilmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Would you please put the record on again?” Edward asked.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reach the Sky

The air was warm with the lingering summer, carrying with each soft breeze the smell of the leaves dying and the crackling music of the Gramophone. He had taken to playing records incessantly; he was still overwhelmed by the permanent fact of his blindness and lived with the constant fear of silence accompanying it. It was far too much like death and he - he felt his chest tighten at the mere ghosted thought - it was best he didn’t think of such a thing.

Edward stood to crank the Gramophone once more and restart the song which had just finished, carefully replacing the arm at the record’s edge when Thomas wrapped his arms around Edward’s middle.

“Next time I go into town, I’m buying you one of them funny songs and not telling you,” he murmured. The words hummed slightly from where his mouth was pressed to Edward’s shoulder and he leaned his head to rest it against Thomas’s.

“I’ll notice eventually.”

“Then you’ll be too preoccupied wondering how they _do_ keep them on the farm,” Thomas countered, kissing Edward’s neck. “Turn around.”

Edward did as he was told and suddenly found himself caught up in a pose for dance. He remained motionless for a moment before realising that Thomas expected him to lead; Edward had never really been one for dancing, but he could do it by rote all the same.

"It isn’t fair I’ll never know what you look like,” Edward said, his jaw tightening. His other senses were filled with Thomas and even so the weight of what was missing was crushing him. They were face to face, so close, he ought have been able to - Thomas squeezed his hand tightly.

“It doesn’t matter. Please just - please, Edward,” Thomas said, voice strained. Edward took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that he was English, was a gentleman - was hurting Thomas, the only person who loved him in so singular a way. He leaned down slightly and kissed the sharp line of Thomas’s cheek - god, he must be striking - and pulled back with a shaky sigh.

“Would you please put the record on again?” Edward asked. Thomas made a quiet affirmative sound and Edward listened to the soft shuffling  of his actions before the music started up again. Thomas resumed his position.

“You’re beautiful; I can tell every way but for seeing you. I’m just greedy,” Edward said quietly, his voice forcibly lighter as he restarted their dance. “I don’t need to see in order to do this, but I want to.”

“I know,” Thomas replied. Edward pulled him closer, improperly so for a dance, and led him slowly, revelling in his sensations. For a disarming moment, he was distracted from the fact of his blindness as he was overwhelmed by the way Thomas filled his other senses so completely.

His soft breathing beneath the music - that pomade, cigarette, and _Thomas_ scent - how very solid he was in Edward’s arms: they melded to form a portrait that, for a moment, didn’t seem to need sight to be indulged in. It was a sort of portrait of experience, love; he leaned in for a kiss, to taste him. To complete this work of art.


End file.
